


Etain Tells Dar

by kaasknot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Dubcon (military coercion), F/M, Fix-It, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot
Summary: You know that scene inTriple Zero? The one where Etain tells Kal first? I hate that scene. So I fixed it.





	Etain Tells Dar

They were sitting on the roof of Qibbu’s bar, hidden from view by a dozen speeders and tangled together on Vau’s bench. It reeked of strill and Vau’s particular brand of emotionlessness, but all Etain cared about was Darman: his arm around her, the feeling of his laughter where she sat pressed against his chest, and the smell of his sweat, undercut by an unsettling tang of accelerant char. His giddiness at having survived the CoruFresh op effervesced through her senses until she shook with it: a contact high through the Force.

He steadied himself with an effort. “No, but really, what were you going to say?”

His smile was bright and warm, and Etain took what comfort she could from it as the levity of the moment drained out of her. She bit her lip. The silence dragged, and she felt Darman tense. He was too well-trained a soldier not to respond to any form of danger, whether it be from a droid or a sudden change in his girl’s demeanor.

He touched her shoulder, light as featherdown and so tender it made Etain ache. “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“It’s something serious, though.”

“Yes. But good, too.” _I hope._ She took a deep breath; there might not be a better moment. “Dar, I’m pregnant.”

He froze, the way she had seen him and his squad do dozens of times as they assessed uncertain terrain. “You’re… pregnant.”

Etain suddenly wondered how well the Kaminoans had educated the clones on human reproduction. “Yes.”

“With a baby.”

She laughed, high-pitched and nervous, though she didn’t mean to. “Yes, with a baby. _Your_ baby.”

Darman didn’t say anything, but his face went through a series of expressions, each more painful than the last: shock, curiosity, wonder, fear, awe, and finally, a tremulous sort of hope. There was a tight feeling in his chest, Etain felt it, and as he looked down at her stomach, a white-hot blaze of emotion ignited in the Force.

“ _My_ baby,” he echoed. He looked up, and his expression was more vulnerable than she had ever seen it, even in battle. “I’m going to be a father?”

The way he said it, soft and gut-punched, was like he had been handed a gift he had never thought to ask for, never allowed himself to want. Of course. He was Mando, for all that he had been raised in the sterile halls of Kamino. Her heart broke for him even as she smiled, tears pricking her eyes. “Yes.”

His hand twitched toward her before he stilled it. He was nervous. Nervous, but longing. Etain reached out and touched his cheek. He was so warm, all of them were; a product of their heightened metabolism, she supposed. His stubble rasped against her palm. “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” she said haltingly.

Darman’s breath shuddered out of him. His eyes were luminous in the neon-lit shadows, his expression torn open. He looked at her like she was the Chosen One. Like she was whatever god the Mandalorians had. He leaned forward, achingly slowly, and pressed his forehead against hers. “I hold you in my heart forever,” he whispered back.

“Dar,” Etain managed, before the knot in her throat choked off the rest. “Dar.”

In one breathtakingly quick movement he had her laid out along the bench, himself on his knees beside her, his hand hovering over her stomach. “Can I…?”

There was more emotion in Etain’s whole body than she had room for. She took his hand and pressed it over the flutter in her Force signature, the glimmer of possibility taking root in her body. It was still tenuous; too many branching tendrils wended down paths of abortion or miscarriage. But the taproot was strong, and Etain suspected this _possibility_ would thrive. Darman’s eyes shone overbright in the passing headlights of a speeder, his wonder and joy so acute as to feel like pain. Etain pulled up her tunic to let him touch skin-against-skin. His fingers, blunt and rough and strong, were infinitely gentle as he rested his hand over their child in her belly. His shoulders bowed and hitched.

The probability of the baby’s birth grew stronger in the Force.

“Etain, I--I never--” she heard the click as he swallowed. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against her stomach, then laid a kiss beside her belly button. He stayed there, bowed over her, and Etain wished she was more like General Kenobi, who always knew what to say. She ran a hand through Darman’s close-cropped curls and soothed him as he cried. 

“I’m gonna be a father,” he said, pulling away. Then something twisted in the Force, and Darman went still. He looked up at Etain, his cheeks wet. “Did you know it would happen?”

He didn’t feel right. Something was off; the tenderness was muted, as though Darman had shielded himself from hurt. “Not exactly,” Etain said cautiously. “It wasn’t something I realized I wanted until the Force showed me. I saw the future we could make together, and... ” She trailed off, unsure how to articulate what had been less a vision and more a rooted certainty in her bones.

“And you made an operational decision,” Darman said, his voice oddly flat.

Etain went cold. She pushed herself up so that Darman, still kneeling, was bracketed by her thighs. “It wasn’t like that,” she said, tamping back on her surge of panic with practiced ease. “I didn’t mean for it to happen so soon.”

“But you didn’t do anything to _stop_ it, did you.”

Etain searched for a way to deny his words, to say that it had been pure accident, but her own inaction put lie to it. She hadn’t meant to get pregnant--but she hadn’t bothered to get BC shots, either. They were free at any clinic on Coruscant; the Jedi Order would never have had to know. Shame spilled through her. “No.”

Darman wouldn’t look at her. “I go where I’m told and shoot what I’m told. What I want isn’t part of the equation.” He closed his eyes. “I thought you were more than my general, Etain.”

“Oh, Force.” It came out on a whisper. She reached out, unable to stop herself, and traced her fingertips over his face. It was so familiar to her, now: his dramatic brows, his wide, straight nose, and the sharp line of his cheekbones. The remnants of his tears wet her skin. “I wanted to give you a future,” she said. “That’s all. I wanted--you and your brothers have so _little_ , and I thought if I could give this back--” her words faltered. “I thought that might balance the debt we owe you.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “You could have asked.”

 _You could have let me have a say in my own life_ , she heard, and a sob fell out of her. “I should have. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dar, I didn’t think.”

The Force roiled with their tangled feelings, but Darman pushed them aside with a soldier’s skill at compartmentalization. “What’s the plan of action, here? How are we going to handle this baby?”

“Well--” Etain cut herself off. In nine months--possibly five, if she pushed it--she would have a child that would be utterly dependent on her for survival. A child that would have to be kept secret from her Order. A child that Darman would never be able to admit to, claim as his own, or take leave to visit, let alone help raise. What had, in the privacy of her convictions, seemed like the right thing to do was now impossibly selfish and naive. A heavy stone sank through her, crushing the fantasies she had built of her and Darman’s shared future. The future was no ally, she realized. “I--I didn’t think that far ahead,” she admitted.

Darman rubbed his hands up and down her thighs. “We have to talk to Kal.”

Kal. It made sense. He was a tightly-leashed thunderbolt of a man, but he cared for his troops. Perhaps he could have some insight that Etain, in her haste, had overlooked.

“I’ll probably have to take a leave of absence,” she said quietly. “I’ll start showing in a few months, though a Jedi will know much sooner. I’ve been careful around Bardan just in case.”

Darman’s gaze was drawn back to her stomach like a compass finding north. There was a sense of purpose in him, now, a hardening and a focusing that sent a shiver down Etain’s spine. “I _will_ survive this war,” he said, his fingers digging into her thighs. “I _will_ be there for them. I swear by the Manda I’ll be there for my child.”

“For him,” Etain said. “I’m having a son.”

“A son,” Darman whispered, his expression shattering once more. Etain didn’t pretend to understand the bond a Mandalorian father had with his children; she wasn’t Mandalorian. She hadn’t been raised to it as Darman had. But the rippling waves of emotion pounding through him gave her something of an idea. She leaned forward, uncertain of her welcome, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, drawing back. “I should have discussed it with you beforehand.”

“Yes, you should have,” he replied, his face hot with tears. “But we’re here now, and I wouldn’t have you take it back for the whole galaxy.”

“You’re not mad?”

His smile was shaky and wry, but inside, he was glowing. “You’re going to make me a father, Etain. That’s the greatest gift anyone’s ever given to me.” He wiped at his cheeks. “It won’t be easy, and I can’t say what’ll happen down the road, but no, I’m not mad at you. Much.” His hands trembled as he brushed back her hair from her face. “You beautiful woman.”

Etain looked down to keep from meeting his eyes. “You don’t need to say that.”

He shrugged. “You are.”

“How can you--after I--” She cleared her throat. “I _know_ you’ve seen more beautiful women than me.”

“Maybe.” He reached up and kissed her, slow and considering. “But you lead your troops into battle. You hold them as they bleed out, and you carry that fekking conc rifle, bigger even than you are.” She felt and heard his smile more than she saw it; she was too busy shivering beneath the combined assault of his forgiveness and the slow line of kisses he was making down her throat. “You’re the mother of my son. That puts you on a level no one else can reach.”

Etain wrapped her arms around him, mostly to mask how hard she was blushing. “Please stop talking.”

“One day,” he said, leaning up to kiss her mouth, “I’ll say it and you’ll believe me.” He pulled back and started to loosen the laces on her trousers. “Think I’m going to start working on convincing you now. Since we’re here.”

“Dar! We’re on the _roof_!”

He tugged her trousers down before running his hands back up her legs, and despite herself Etain responded to the scrape of his calluses against her skin.

“Who needs ARCs with intel like that, ma’am.”

“People will see,” she replied, but her fingers were already clenched tight in his hair. 

“People don’t care.” He bent down, then paused. “And if my brothers see, well, then they know better to come looking when both you and I are missing.” With that, he lowered his head and licked a stripe up the center of her, already slick and waiting for him.

“Force, I love you,” Etain breathed, and it was the last coherent thought she had.

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe it's just me, but Kal Skirata should not have had first say in what happened to Etain's baby. He shouldn't even have had second say. The fact that he did... well, it pissed me off enough to write fic :P


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